A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. ToC During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison,—for admission (by the Master's express orders,) was denied her. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough.
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